Life As Randy Knows It
by qtea-angel
Summary: High school can either be the best time of our lives, or the worst. But one thing's for sure: you can't go through it without the drama, heartbreak and parties. Take a look into what it's like to be a normal high school kid, through the eyes of RKO.
1. Prologue

A/N: I'm finally back with my first story for the new year. It actually took me a while to post this, since I had software and internet problems. I do hope you guys enjoy reading this idea of mine that I have been toying around for months now. Please read and review, I would appreciate all your feedbacks. :-)

DISCLAIMER: All characters and persona are owned by Vince McMahon and the WWE. This is pure fiction, any events similar is pure coincidental.

Now, on with the story...

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Even I was amazed at myself. There I was, in Stacy's house, in Stacy's living room, sitting on Stacy's couch, with Stacy herself right beside me. And we were alone. I wasn't entirely sure how I had ended up there, but I congratulated myself on a job well done anyway.

It sort of happened like this: I called up Stacy that evening just to talk to her. I didn't give any excuses. I just told her "I felt like talking to you," when she asked me why I called. She took it a little too well, with a smug, "So you miss me already." We talked about movies, and how she likes violent, blood and guts "boy movies" - a term we had coined for the antithesis of chick flicks (which she also loved). I told her I had a bootleg version of The Godfather. She replied that she had a DVD player in her house. I found myself driving over to her house in disbelief and excitement, and I couldn't wipe the smile off my face.

At times I think Stacy knows I like her, which would make her one of three people in the world who know. There's her best friend Christy, in whom I confided once, there's Stacy herself, and then there's my mother, who somehow just knows, no matter how hard I try to hide it. Other times, I think Stacy doesn't have a clue. Stacy is used to guys heaping her with attention. Sometimes, I want Stacy to know I like her. Sometimes I want nothing more than to tell her, There are always a million reasons why I don't -- none of them good ones.

After the movie, we just talked on her couch. It got late, and when her parents announced that they were going to bed, I offered to go since it was the proper thing to do. Stacy would have nothing off it, and made me stay.

With her parents safely tucked away, we let our guard down. She reclined on the couch, put her feet up, and leaned against me. Her hair was in my face, but I didn't mind. She smelled great. I could smell her hair and almost catch the fragrance of her skin.

Our voices got very quiet, and I kept stroking her hair while we talked. "I like that," she said. "It makes me sleepy." And we talked more about movies and people and our lives and other things I don't remember. Before I knew it, she was asleep.

At first I didn't know whether or not I should be upset that she had fallen asleep on me in mid-conversation. But as I looked at her, all traces of annoyance disappeared. Her face looked so peaceful. Her mouth was opened slightly. I could hear her breathing.

I continued to stare at her upside-down face. Her head had slipped down to my stomach, and I leaned over and asked, "Are you asleep?" She obviously was, but she answered me in her sleep, mumbling something inaudible. I leaned closer to her to catch what she was saying, but I couldn't make it out. I watched her lips move, but couldn't make out the words. I was so close to her, I could have kissed her. Still looking at her, I lay my head on the back of the couch and started talking to her.

And I told her everything I wanted to tell her.

Fifteen minutes later, I woke her up by gently nudging her shoulder. I told her I had to go, and wished her a good night. And it really was a good night because I knew that a part of her knew, even if it was that part of her that slept and didn't remember anything when she woke up. That was enough.

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A/N: Like it? Hate it? Please review:-)


	2. Busted!

A/N: Thanks for all those people who reviewed my first chapter. They really mean a lot to me. And to those people who read my first chapter but wasn't able to review, thanks too. So I have a new chapter up, i hope you guys will like this too. if you're not a randy-stacy pairing fan, please give this fic a chance...

as usual, i don't own anything, this is a work of fiction. now, on with the story...

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"You like her, Randy," Christy said. "Don't deny it!"

I gagged on my latte, and almost fell off my chair in the coffee shop, nearly sending the display of coffee beans beside me tumbling to the ground.

_That's it, _I thought. _I was busted. _It was now a choice between two responses: 1) the "Randy" answer, "You must be kidding me, Christy. Stacy and I are just friends." or 2) the truth, "Christy, I desperately want your best friend. You have to help me. She possesses me. She's all I think about night and day." I tried my luck with the "Randy" answer. Christy laughed.

"Oh just admit it, Randy. You like her. Nothing wrong with that. She's pretty, she's nice, she's smart, she likes you too..."

My heart stopped. "W-What?" I stammered. "Really?"

"Aha!" Christy shouted triumphantly. "So you do like her!" I felt like a fool. I fell for the oldest trick in the book. I was starting to become convinced that all women were sent by the devil to confuse men and send them on the path of damnation. Or maybe it was just that they would stop at nothing when they caught a whiff of what they called _gossip. _

"You got me," I told her helplessly.

"Oh Randy!" Christy squealed. She was one of those girls who squealed when they got excited. "I'm so happy for you! I can't think of anyone better for Stacy. Or for you!" She started bouncing off her seat. I started getting dizzy just looking at her. After letting out another burst of squeals, she stopped bouncing and became serious. "I'm sorry I had to lie about her liking you, though. I mean, she doesn't like you." She stopped. "No, no, no, I don't mean she doesn't like you. She might like you. Or she might not. Kind of. And even if I really knew, I couldn't really tell you. You know what I mean?"

I don't know if it was a conspiracy, but the next day, it was John's turn.

"Just kiss her, man," John said. John, my best friend, the only guy in the entire freshman class who seriously wants to become a rapper. John, the guy with a girlfriend list as long as the Bible. John Cena. All his rather obvious shortcomings aside, he was a real decent guy, but most of the time he was to busy pretending to be conceited and a jerk. Like now, while we were sitting outside the football fields, letting the afternoon just pass us by.

"Who are you talking about?"

John made a disgusted face and a sound like he was coughing up a hair ball or something.

"Come on, dude, who are ya kiddin'?"

"No, really, man. Who are you talking about?"

"Stacy, you idiot." I was shocked. Was I that transparent? "Ya voice changes when her name comes up," John went on. "Ya eyes twinkle, and ya smile for no fuckin' reason, man. Ya look like a lapdog beside her. IT. IS. SO. OBVIOUS. "

"What? That is not true." I continued to protest my innocence.

"Just kiss her, man. And get it over with."

That Saturday, I dropped off Stacy at her house after Christy, John, Stacy and I -- the four musketeers of Greenwich High -- spent the afternoon traipsing around some godforsaken mall. Stacy was the last one I dropped off, my excuse being that I wanted some company since Christy's house was so far away, It was a good excuse, I think. Christy played like a professional liar.

Whenever I am with Stacy, there is a quiet joy that fills me. Everything recedes into the background. It seems like no one else is around. Everyone could disappear for all I care. Every time we are together, we are alone, even in a crowded room. That day, with just her in the car, I couldn't help smiling to myself.

"What are you smiling about?" Stacy asked me when we were finally alone in the car.

"Nothing," I said. "I just... I just like this."

She smiled too. In the language of smiles, her smile, mirrored by mine, said something. Something that gave away nothing and at the same time, everything.

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A/N: So there. you guys know what to do:-)


	3. Something About Her

A/N: So I decided to update my fic sooner, since I'm going to the beach this weekend and I might not have the chance to update it by then. Wohoo! I'm so excited (can you tell I really need a vacation?)... Anyway, I hope you like this chapter, even though it'sreally short (I'm in a hurry). Thanks to everyone who read this fic, especially to those who reviewed. Promise I'll give you a longer chapter within the week when I get back.

As usual, everything is owned by the Vince McMahon and the WWE. This work is just a product of my (hyperactive) imagination. Now, on with the story...

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"So why Stacy?" John asked me. "I mean, aside from the obvious."

John was playing devil's advocate, as always. He took a giant gulp from his soda.

I was stumped, and it was driving me absolutely crazy. It was always the most obvious things that were the most difficult to explain. I liked Stacy. I was crazy about her, mad about her, positively cuckoo. It was so obvious I felt like wearing a neon sign on my head. A thousand reasons tried to break free from my brain, my gut and my heart fly out of my mouth, but nothing came out. Undoubtedly, they all had gotten stuck in traffic.

The silence on my end of the conversation dragged on. My mouth was hanging open as I tried to force the words I wanted to say to come out.

"When I first saw her," I told John without the aid of sappy lines, "I was floored. Because she's beautiful. Everyone knows she's beautiful. And I dismissed her as just another pretty face. You know, one of those nice girls with nothing special about them whatsoever. Of course, I wanted her. That's the easy part."

"Then one afternoon, I made up some flimsy excuse to talk to her, hiding behind the pretense of school work. I found myself enchanted by the way she bites her lip, and the way she touches you when she talks, small things like that. By the time we finished talking it was evening already, and I still wanted to go on talking to her. That's when I realized that this girl was something special, that she was like no one else I knew... that she was simply wonderful. She was smart and funny, and that turns me on more than anything about her. I like her because she's a little kooky. I like her because she's stubborn. I like her because she can be such a bitch. I like her because she laughs too loud.

"After that I'd go out of my way every day to 'bump into her by accident'. I was practically stalking her, John! I made more excuses to talk to her, and the excuses just got flimsier and flimsier. Now I feel like I'll die if I don't talk to her everyday -- me, Mr. I'm-So-Cool-I-Don't-Need-Anyone. I don't know what it is, she just flows in kindness and beauty, overflows, and fills me. She's a part of me."

John stared at me for a full five seconds without saying anything. _Was he going to laugh? Was he going to throw his food at me? _Finally, he put his fork down with an amused smile playing across his face, and said, "I don't believe this! You don't like her dude. You love her already. I don't believe this."

I figured it was the neon sign on my head that gave me away again.

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A/N: Told you guys it was really short. But please review anyway... please:-)


	4. Jealousy

A/N: Yes! I am alive! And no, Kelly, I was not abducted by aliens... just by John! LOL! My whole February was totally jampacked, so I really did not have time to post anything at all, although in between my trips to the beach, the RAW house show and stalking John, I managed to finish 3 chapters that I'm gonna post today as a sorry gift to all you guys out there. I really wanted to make it up to you, so I hope you like them!

As ususal, I own nothing! Now, on with the story.

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One Friday night, Christy called wanting me to go to "the party of the year", which was being thrown by our filthy rich classmate, Stephanie McMahon. "You have to go," Christy said to me over the phone. "If you're not going then John's not going, and I'm not going because then I'll have no ride home, and Stacy can't go alone, and Stacy told me to force you to go since you've been hiding from us all week long and all the plans are already made, and if you don't say yes I'll tell Stacy to call you herself because God knows you can't say no to her, so you have to say yes." I said yes to my friend, the extortionist.

The plan went like this: Have dinner at this restaurant, go to the McMahon mansion for the party, then wind down in a quiet coffee place.

Everything went on perfectly until midnight. On the way to dinner, John and I recounted our wrestling camp adventures over the summer. Stacy looked beautiful beside me. Then during dinner, a strange thing happened: Christy and John seemed to disappear. It was just me and Stacy and no one else. We talked as if we shared a secret language, sat very close to each other, and hovered on the borders of touching. Drinks at the party later turned into a charming little game of Truth or Dare where John admitted to everything he was asked, and Stacy admitted to liking someone though she wouldn't say exactly who (at which point Christy and John simultaneously kicked me under the table and I bellowed in pain because Christy was wearing heels). I knew it couldn't be me, but a part of me wanted it to be me so badly. At midnight, we were all happy and pleasantly buzzed. At midnight, "Mr. Slick" Shane McMahon showed up and spoiled everything.

Mr. Slimy was every girl's dream. He walked into his younger sister's party tall, tanned and good-looking in a broad-jawed sort of way, student council president, Ivy League-bound, and star quarterback of our school's varsity team. He was dressed more like a yuppie than a high school senior: gray slacks, black dress shirt and clunky, odd-shaped, very shiny black shoes. He carried himself overconfidently, the kind of man who, when he spoke, caused every chick in the room to stare at him and sigh. His hair looked like an oil spill.

Mr. Greasy's face lit up as he passed us. "Stacy!" he exclaimed. To my shock, Stacy greeted Mr. Sickeningly-Smooth just as enthusiastically. To my disgust, he grabbed a chair and sat right between Stacy and me. The two began to chat llike old friends. Stacy introduced us to Mr. Self-Absorbed, but he just gave us all a fake smile and returned to lavishing Stacy with attention.

For the rest of the night, Mr. Sticky just hung around and didn't let Stacy out of his sight. Meanwhile, I contemplated stabbing him in the back with a fork. What pained me most though was that Stacy looked like she was enjoying herself. She laughed at his stupid jokes and listened with undivided attention to his vapid stories (like how his father bought him a Mercedes). To my despair, Mr. Touchy-clingy followed us wherever we went, until finally he asked Stacy to dance. She willingly followed him to the dance floor where they gyrated rather lewdly.

Christy patted me on the back. "Don't worry, Randy," she said. "You're much cuter." But by then my night was ruined.

Late night coffee calmed me down much later. I found myself alone with Stacy when Christy and John found some friends of theirs.

"Hey what's bothering you?" Stacy asked me, genuinely concerned.

"Bothering me?" I said, playing dumb. "Nah, I'm cool. Just chillin'." I put on a brave smile.

"Well, in case you're wondering, he's just an old family friend. And besides, he's not my type," she said. "He's so full of himself, and he can be such a bore."

Stacy looked into my eyes with her big hazel ones. "You've been so quiet," she went on. "I'm starting to miss you already."

And just like that, she made everything wonderful again.

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A/N: OK, now go on to the next...


	5. Clueless

Hearts and flowers, official dates and chocolates, confessions and proposals: the tried and tested routes that men have used throughout history to woo women. I had never been much good at them. And for the nth time in my life, I wished that I were smoother than I really was. I prayed every night that I would wake up the next day with all the right moves because in reality, I was clueless about how to go about the whole thing.

"Why don't you court her already?" Christy said to me one day. I wanted to scream back at her, "How? How! How!" My best buddy John was just as bad. "Be a man, dude," he kept on taunting me. "Just kiss her. Court her if you have to. Just don't be such a wuss, coz you know that ain't yo style." The problem was that they just didn't get it. No one understood it except me: Stacy was impossible to court.

I knew Stacy was impossible to court because of this one special time we spent together. It was one of those days. Stacy and I were attacked by an inexplicable wave of claustrophobia and we decided to take a walk around the school grounds, away from the huddled masses hanging out in the cafeteria. We walked aimlessly until there was no one around and chatted just as aimlessly, talking about hearts and flowers as we walked through the grass.

Pop quiz. "Number of ex-boyfriends," I grilled her.

"Two," she said. "First guy's name was David Flair. Childhood friend of mine. We evolved into a couple by 5th grade, but it just didn't work. We were kids really, but it was sweet. Second guy was Andrew Martin. He showered me with gifts and lies, and I fell. I've never fallen for the act since. What about you? Number of ex-girlfriends?"

"One." I replied. "Vikki. she courted me in 7th grade."

"Ooh! Hot stuff!" Trish teased me.

"Who was I to say no?" I protested. "It took me all of two weeks to figure out I didn't like her back. Besides, how hot can I be when I've been turned down five out of five times I made the first move? Chicks just don't take me seriously."

Stacy laughed. When she laughed, everything in her lit up, exploding with joy. And for a few seconds, the world seemed to be filled with her light. Her laughter subsided and she became thoughtful saying, "I just can't stand it when guys court me."

"Courting is natural."

"You think so? I don't think there's anything natural about it. It makes me feel cheap. It makes me feel like a piece of meat. Bought with gifts and jewelry. Like a bimbo who falls for flattery. And the worst part of it all is when the guy is your friend. When the first dozen of roses comes along, that's it. Your friendship is over. So when a guy courts me, I make a run for it. I stop talking to him. It's over for me. I just can't stand it."

I looked at her then. She looked thoughtful, and she was biting her lip as she always did when she was thinking. I didn't know what to say to her. I loved our friendship. But my feelings were about to run away with me and she was telling me that was the last thing that she wanted.

We passed a little bush with the most pathetic little orange flowers growing in small bunches and I remembered something my old man once told me: "No matter who the girl is, no matter what the girl says she wants, she wants flowers." So I bent down and picked flowers from the weeds at my feet and I handed them over to Stacy without saying anything. She didn't say anything either. Just took the flowers with a smile. She didn't seem to mind.


	6. Sleepless Nights

"You think too much, Randy," I told myself. My good friend Christy always told me the same thing, and it was true. I stared at a rumpled, unshaven version of myself in the bathroom mirror. I shivered. The cold of the Christmas season was getting to me. It was 3 a.m. and I couldn't sleep.

There was a question going round and round in my brain, and it wouldn't let me go. Part of me knew the answer. Part of me didn't. Half of me hoped I was wrong. The other half didn't even dare to hope.

The question would always come up during those late hours of the night, when there was no hiding. But I had to know, so the question wouldn't let me alone. The question was an old one: did Stacy like me or not?

On my bed was a letter from Stacy. It wasn't a letter, really, more of a note just saying hello, how are you, blah blah blah. Just one of those little thoughtful things that girls do.

I had read the note around a dozed times already, taking apart every sentence, looking for hidden meanings with the efficiency of an obsessed, overly efficient psycho killer. But there was nothing there that was anything more than friendly, nothing that could be misconstrued as romantic, nothing even close to flirting. But one word at the bottom of the letter sent my world into chaos. "Love, Stacy" the closing read.

"That doesn't mean anything," I argued with myself. "We're friends. You can profess love to a friend without meaning anything." I really don't know whom I was trying to convince.

Besides, what was the big deal about saying "love"? She was always affectionate towards me. Always touching. Putting her arm in mine. Resting her head on my shoulder in that maddening way of hers. Driving me absolutely crazy.

But something had changed lately. We were in a party once, just walking around. She had linked her arm in mine, and as we walked, her arm slipped slowly down, unconsciously no doubt, and our hands slipped into each other's because it was the most natural thing to do. When she realized that we were holding hands, her hand quickly slipped out of mine. She blushed slightly and wouldn't look at me directly. She avoided me the rest of the night.

"The problem with Stacy," Christy told me during one of our breaks between classes, "is that even if she does like you, she probably hasn't figured it out herself, and when she finds out you like her, she'll run away for sure, whether she likes you or not. That's just the way she is, you know; she's an emotional midget in that way, but that's one of the reasons why you love her, I'm sure. I think she likes you though."

John begged to differ. "You dufus. Of course she digs you. I can't explain it. I just know, OK? And you know what else? I don't give a shit if ya say that she'll run away the moment you pop the question. My homie, ya damned if ya do, and ya damned if ya don't. So ya might as well do."

My friend John was right. Everyone was right. And I knew that there was only one thing left to do. Everything was clear now in the strange and unique way that things are clear at three in the morning. Knowing that, I settled into bed and closed my eyes. But before I could fall asleep, the phone rang, and I answered it on the second ring. It was Stacy.

"Hi Randy," she said softly.

"Hey buddy," I said, surprised out my wits. Stacy hardly ever called me. "Anything wrong?"

"No," she replied. "nothing's wrong. I just couldn't sleep. I'm glad you're still up."

"Well, I'm glad I'm up."

"I just felt like talking to you," she said.

Joined by sleeplessness, we talked until morning.

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A/N: OK! That's a wrap! I hope you liked what's happening so far...oh, and don't forget to review! I'll update on the weekend...Thanks guys!


	7. The New Year

A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed my previous chapters. I'm glad you guys liked it. So here's a brand new one, and by the way, on a side note about Chapter 5, sorry for the Trish slip up. I orginally wrote this with a John-Trish pairing in mind, but I changed it last minute coz I thought the characterization suits Randy and Stacy better. I guess I slipped on the editing part. :-)

So, on with the story, as usual, I own nada.

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December 31st. My friends -- Christy, John and Stacy -- and I decided to spend the New Year's celebrations at the yearly party of our friend Paul Levesque, Stephanie's boyfriend who was as rich as sin. Spectacular food, an open bar overflowing with champagne, and fireworks to welcome the New Year. Who wouldn't want to celebrate the New Year like that?

Over dinner, we talked about the old year: in a nutshell, wonderful but something of a disappointment. It was great because there were so many things that were new, like school and new friends. But at the same time, there were still so many things we wanted to do. John needed to get a 115/100 in his next exam to pass his favorite subject. Christy reconsidered big plans of asking out her ultimate crush, Gregory Helms on a date.

"OK, New Year's resolutions," Christy grilled us one by one.

"OK, OK, OK," John said, "I swear I'll try to study and stick to just dating two women at the same time." We all looked at him like he was crazy. "Fine, three women, tops," he grinned while taking a sip from his champagne.

"And I," Christy said, answering her own question, "will learn to be happy on my own. Who needs boys?" Sounds of approval echoed around the table.

"What about you, Randy?" Stacy asked me.

"Haven't got a clue," I said. Nothing was on my mind, except telling Stacy about my feelings for her, and I couldn't just blurt that out in front of everybody, much less to Stacy who was by my side looking at me expectantly.

"I have one for all of us," Stacy said. "I resolve that we all be friends no matter what happens. The best of friends. I say we never let anything get in the way of our friendship. Don't you guys agree?" Stacy made us all give our consent.

"Hear hear!" John agreed enthusiastically. Across the table, Christy gave me a concerned look.

"Come on, John," Christy said standing up, "dance with me, you dope."

Stacy and I never really found John and Christy until the next year. So as the last minutes of the old year slipped from us, we stood with the crowd silently, exchanging a few words comfortably. The fireworks exploded above us.

That was when I started staring at Stacy shamelessly. I stood there, looking at her as if it were the first time I had ever seen her. She didn't notice because she was busy marveling at the fireworks. Considering how my emotions were exploding right there beside her. I wonder how she couldn't have noticed me staring at her.

With each explosion of the pyrotechnics in the sky, Stacy's face lit up with a smile and with the light reflected from the fireworks. I couldn't have cared less for fireworks at the moment. From somewhere far away, I could hear the countdown to the New Year begin.

Three... two... one...

The cheering was deafening. All around, people were jumping and screaming at the top of their voices. Couples got into passionate embraces. Beside me, Stacy was laughing silently, watching everyone go crazy. We looked at each other and laughed. "Happy New Year," she said. She came closer to me and my arm went around her waist. She moved to kiss me on the cheek, and I moved to kiss her on the cheek too. But we both moved to the same side and instinctively she offered the other cheek. Only I too realized our lips were on a collision course, so I simultaneously maneuvered my head in the same direction. It happened before either of us realized that it was happening.

That kiss lasted only a second really. But no second in my life had ever been charged with so much electricity or so much wonder.

When she pulled away, we looked at each other, knowing that there was something undeniable there, feeling unable to control what was happening, and wondering how this would affect us tomorrow. At that point, Christy and John found us, unwittingly interrupting the most incredible moment of my life.

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A/N: Tell me guys what you think!


	8. The New Girl

A/N: I want to say thanks to everyone who reviewed and enjoyed the previous chapter. I am so psyched about Wrestlemania, so during the WM weekend, I'm not sure if I'll be able to post but anyway, here's a new chapter with a brand new character. Hope you guys like it!

Again, I own nothing...

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After that lip-locking incident last New Year's, nothing was ever really the same between Stacy and me. I felt I had to say something to . What that was, I just didn't know. I wanted to act cool, like, hey, it's no big deal, it's just a kiss, it doesn't mean we're married. I wanted us to just get on with our lives. At the same time, I wanted to worship her. I wanted to kiss her again and never stop kissing her. I wanted to make everything all right, but I didn't have the words. I didn't know what to do.

Stacy was freaked out, I could tell. She seemed uncomfortable when I was around, looking at me as if she wanted me to say something. She could hardly say a word to me, speaking to me only when she had to. And so we avoided each other. We found excuses not to have lunch together. She went straight home after class.

Trish entered my life as Stacy was trying to make an exit. Trish was in our English Lit class, and I had first noticed her early in the year when an answer from the class awoke me from my usual daze. "We're all brainwashed to look for love," she had said. "We do a lot of stupid things for love. But why? It's a value that is taught to us, but we really don't need it." I looked around for who was speaking and saw Trish.

John, who sat beside me in that class, had let out a series of swear words. "What a fox, man," he had said to me. "What a fox."

Trish was smart and had a quick mouth: a deadly combination. She was opinionated when other girls chose to be cute; flirtatious when they chose to be virtuous. And it was with Trish that my teacher paired me for a paper that would count as one-third of our grade.

Dialogue, according to our English Literature teacher, was one way to the truth. According to Trish, "Dialogue is a compromise, a sales pitch, a 30-second advertising spot. 'Need me. Love me. Buy me.' That's what dialogue is about." And dialogue, because of Trish's views on it, was the topic our teacher gave us for our paper. So for the next few days, I spent every spare moment with Trish. We talked about everything. "Without dialogue," I told her, "how can we live with other people? How can we know what they think or believe or feel?"

I was fascinated with Trish. I had never met anyone like her. Her freedom was contagious and intoxicating. I was hypnotized by her pouty lips and her wicked eyes. In fact, I was so fascinated I had almost forgotten about Stacy.

One day in class, John chucked a note onto my table. "From Stacy," he said. He didn't say anything else, delicately leaving all the awkwardness unsaid. I looked at Stacy from across the room, but she was busy taking down notes.

The note read, "Dear Randy/We should talk. After Lit class? S." I couldn't think of anything else for the rest of the class. Being with Trish may have put Stacy out of sight and out of mind, but I had really begun to miss Stacy.

The bell rang. As I got up to look for Stacy, Trish came up to me and said, "You know, Randy, now that our paper's finished, I'm really gonna miss talking to you."

"Well, who says we have to stop talking to each other?" I replied.

She laughed. "Well, I'd love to dialogue with you again, one day," she said in a naughty tone. And then she tousled my hair fondly at about the same time Stacy walked up to us.

"Stacy," I said, surprised at how much the mere sight of her affected me so much.

Stacy just looked at me and then at Trish, opened her mouth to say something but then decided against it and instead, turned around and walked out of the room.

"What's her problem?" Stacy asked.

I watched Stacy disappear from view. "I have no idea," I told Stacy. And I didn't really know.

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A/N: Please review guys...tell me what you think!


	9. Cold Summer Nights

A/N: I'm back! Sorry if I wasn't able to post this earlier, something was whacked about this site for the past few days, it wasn't allowing me to post anything. I also apologize for the confusion on the last chapter, between Stacy and Trish. Like I said, I originally wrote this with Trish in mind, but last minute changed my mind. Sorry! But thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter.

Now, on with the story, as usual, I own nothing!

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Summer was definitely in the air. Everyone was complaining about the heat and was itching to get out of school to hit the beach -- anywhere as long as it wasn't here. John was hit with the bug first.

"Let's get out of this place, dude!" John screamed at me. "I know this great beach we can go to. It will cost us next to nothing. I swear. I'll take care of everything: food, gas, booze. I'll even tell the girls."

Leaving everything to John was a bad idea. He was the reason why unsinkable boats sunk and infallible plans failed. But I left everything to him anyway. It was also a relief to not have to tell the girls.

Things had settled down between me and Stacy. We were friends again, but not like we were before. We went out when John and Christy were around, but we were never alone. We didn't call each other anymore and we didn't have those soul-baring conversations we used to have.

Not even within sight of the sea, our problems have already begun. Christy couldn't go. She told John, "My parents will never let me go anywhere overnight, much less anywhere out of the city, and not with you two maniacs, and I just can't lie to them, you know, it's just so much neater without lies, lies, lies and besides, Stacy can't go or won't go, I don't know which, so just the three of us won't quite be the same, sorry OK!

John and I were resigned to the thought of not being able to go to the beach, and were sitting glumly on a bench in the shade of a tree when Trish passed by. When we saw her, John broke into his litany of "What a fox! What a fox!" I called out to her and she waved to me and sat beside me. She threw and arm around me and said, "My favorite classmate, I'll miss you this summer." So I asked her if she wanted to go to the beach with John and me, and she said, "Are you kidding? That would be great! And I'm dying to get a tan."

A week later, John pulled through on his promise to take care of everything and we found ourselves lying down on beach towels on white sand, the sun in our eyes, and the waves crashing on the beach a mere ten feet from where we were. I was happy. No school, no worries, and an extremely beautiful woman in a non-existent bikini sitting right next to me. We talked, we laughed, we tasted the summer freedom with every breath we took.

When Trish left John and myself to take a short dip in the water, we stared at her body shamelessly. "She wants you, man," John told me, and I told him he was being a fool. "Of course she does!" John defended himself. "Anyone can see that. She really likes you. She wouldn't be here if she didn't like you. And you, my dear friend, would be crazy to let this opportunity pass. You have to make your move! It's your responsibility as a man. You can't let your kind down! You will not sleep in the same bed as me tonight! Attack, Randy! Attack!"

That night, we sat on the beach playing cards and talking, and staring at the stars. I pointed out the constellations one by one to Trish, and she told me, "My God, Randy, you're just amazing. Tell me how many girls have fallen for this?" To which I replied, "Absolutely none." she laughed saying, "You're too humble. It's working on me just fine."

Right on cue, John yawned, stood up and excused himself for the night, leaving Trish and me alone.

Trish was still in her bikini, but with shorts around her waist now. In the moonlight she was even more beautiful. This was the moment. It was now or never. It was time to make the move.

Trish fixed her big brown eyes on me and said, "Tell me, Randy, now that we're alone..." I held my breath. She went on, "I mean, it's really obvious. I think we're both old enough to know what's going on." I thought I was going to faint, but I told myself to stay cool. "Tell me, Randy. Who is that girl who's in your head? You go sad sometimes, or sometimes you smile to yourself for no reason. Half the day, you were off in your head with whoever that is on your mind. Who is she? What's her name? Who's the lucky girl?"

I looked at Trish, beautiful in the moonlight, and told her, "Stacy. Her name is Stacy."

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A/N: Did you like it? Please Review! By the way, who's stoked for Wrestlemania! i know I am!


	10. Theories, theories, theories

A/N: I am really disappointed that Randy lost, but at the same time, I am so happy that John won! This is so great! Anyway, an update, and thanks to all those who reviewed. Sorry if I can't mention your names, I'm quite in a hurry to do this coz the bed is calling. I do hope I wouldn't disappoint you guys in the following chapters. Now, on with the story and I don't own a thing!

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I knew something was up the moment I saw John talking to Stacy in the cafeteria on the first day of classes. John was leaning close to Stacy, and she had a big smile on her face. Stacy saw me walk in the door and her smile faded a little. John went on talking. "That's great," he said. "I'll see you later."

I was almost right behind John. He turned around and saw me. A guilty look crossed his face as if I had caught him doing something wrong. The bell rang. "Dude!" he said, uncertainty in his voice. "I'll catch ya later, OK? Hafta hit class." And with that, he was gone.

Stacy greeted me with a small smile and left as well. She looked worried. She used to say that I could see straight through her, that I knew her like no one else did.

Things had been getting really weird lately in my circle of friends. Stacy and I had started drifting again after that incident with Trish. Because of that, we would go out in twos or threes but never all four of us together. Acceptable combinations included John, Christy and Stacy or John, Christy and myself. Never John, Stacy and myself. Never Christy, Stacy and myself. The situation had begun to bother all of us. We all missed the old gang.

My thoughts were interrupted when Christy pulled me aside to talk to me as I was on my way home. "Randy!" she said. She seemed visibly distraught. "I have to talk to you!"

I told her I was going home.

"You can't go home!" she said in panic. "I have to talk to you and it's really important. Please, Randy, please, you have to help me! I can't talk to Stacy about it and God knows John is no help and that leaves you, Randy. There's no one else. You have to help me. I'm going crazy. I'm absolutely desperate."

"All right," I gave in. "But what's wrong?"

There was a sinking feeling in my stomach that what she had to tell me had something to do with Stacy and John which was precisely the reason that she couldn't talk to them and had to talk to me.

"I'll tell you later," Christy replied. "Let's meet at Starbucks after 20 minutes, OK?"

Not wanting to hang around school anymore, I headed straight for Starbucks and waited for Christy to arrive with the sinking feeling in my stomach worsening every minute that passed.

After 20 minutes, Stacy walked in the door. I waved to her. If I wasn't imagining things, she looked genuinely happy to see me. She walked over to my table and sat down in front of me.

"Hey you," I greeted her.

"Hey," she said in return.

"What brings you here?" I asked her. "Getting your caffeine fix?"

She gave me an adorable smile. "Actually, I'm supposed to meet John. Have you seen him?"

_Aha! _I thought to myself. _Caught red-handed. _

"No," I answered her as the sinking feeling in my stomach plummeted to my feet.

"Oh," she said. "And what are you doing here?"

"Actually, I'm supposed to meet Christy..."

Our eyes met.

"Oh, God," she said.

"They wouldn't have," I said.

"They just did."

An unbelievably awkward silence settled between us. Then we were both laughing uncontrollably. We just laughed and laughed for a good five minutes.

"I think our friends think that we should talk," Stacy said. "So tell me, Randy, why aren't you talking to me?"

The smile had disappeared from her face and she looked like she was holding her breath. "It's not that," I said. "It's not that at all. It's just after what happened, I just wasn't comfortable. But it's not that I didn't like it... I did." I paused. "I liked it a lot. You were just suddenly not there anymore."

Stacy let out a deep breath. "I'm sorry," she said. "But you should know me better. You're supposed to chase me, silly."

"OK," I said, suddenly feeling very stupid.

"One more thing: what's with you and Trish?"

"Trish?" I said laughing. "Nothing's going on. We're friends." I looked at Stacy. "Are we friends?"

Across the table, Stacy looked into my eyes and I fell in love with her for the millionth time in my life.

"Friends," she said, and we shook hands. But we didn't let go until we went home.

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A/N: Tell me what you think!


	11. The Fear Factor

A/N: I am pissed that Randy was suspended and that he behaved the way that he did... you would think he had learned his lesson in the past, but no... I just wish he would improve his behavior once he comes back...

Anyway, here we go, 2 new chapters! I was supposed to post this 2 weeks ago but I had a bit of a puppy crisis... but anyway, better late than never, right! As always, I don't own anything and now, on with the story!

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Ten days into the new school year, fear set in. Inexplicable and mysterious, a little nagging voice started whispering in my ear, "Run for it, Randy. Run for your life!" I had no idea what came over me.

That day Stacy greeted me in the hallway with an unbeliveably bright hello, linked her arm into mine and asked me, "We have two hours until our next class. So what are we going to do?"

I told her I had to research in the library and then I made a run for it.

The thing is, it wasn't because things weren't going well between us. In fact, things were well-er than well. They were positively spectacular. Stacy and I had registered for our classes together and we synchronized our schedules so that practically all our breaks coincided with each other. In theory, we could spend every spare moment of the week together. And for the first week we did just that. And it was wonderful.

It was true that I had some research in the library, but it wasn't the complete truth. The research would have taken me all of maybe twenty minutes, but I stayed in the library, hiding like a fugitive. And I didn't even like it there.

A voice from behind said to me in shock, "What are you doing here? Who will I bump into here next? John?"

I looked around and just as shock, exclaimed, "What are you doing here?"

It was Trish, Trish of the many contradictions, Trish the virgin slut, Trish the brain surgeon model.

Trish sat down beside me with a pile of books and we started talking. We had a lot of catching up to do. I hadn't really spoken to her in weeks.

After a few minutes of pleasant conversation. she dropped an atom bomb. "So," she said. "Are you going steady with Stacy yet?"

Things had reached a point where this question was quite common. Everyone nowadays was asking me that question. But it never failed to surprise me. "No..." I said, desperately groping for an appropriate answer. "uh... I mean... we're just friends... really... good friends."

Trish laughed a cynical, worldly-wise laugh and said, "OK, I understand. You don't have to say anything anymore." If I didn't know any better, I would have said she looked jealous. Sharp as a knife, she asked another atom bomb of a question. "So why aren't you guys together?"

Aha. So Stacy wasn't the only woman on the planet with super powers. Trish could see right through me too. Faced with this, I took a deep breath, and confessed that I was hiding from Stacy. I told her that an irrational fear had come over me, and couldn't explain it. I was still crazy about Stacy. I was sure of it. But things were going too well. Something had to go wrong soon. Maybe I wasn't ready for this. Maybe she wasn't ready for this. Maybe she would hurt me or maybe we would hurt each other. Maybe I was just fooling myself. Maybe it was all coming true. And the beautiful reality of it scared me like no scary movie ever could.

I didn't realize I had been talking non-stop for minutes, and when I finally ran out of words, Trish just sat in her chair and smiled at me in a strange way.

"Isn't it great?" she said. "I saw Stacy in the cafeteria. "Why don't you go to her?"

Trish was right of course, and as I stepped out of the dark library into the sun shining on the beautiful scary world as I was on my way to see Stacy, I ran.

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A/N: Just push that little arrow there to the next chapter! ------->


	12. A Lot Of Firsts

A boring afternoon made its presence felt. Stacy and I were sitting on a bench in school, side having one of our usual, highly involved conversations. It didn't change the fact though that there was simply nothing to do that afternoon. By some sort of of coincidence, half our teachers didn't show up for class and we were left with nothing to do until our next class except discuss the finer points of which movie stars we would want to date/befriend/sleep with. It was nice being with Stacy away from our other friends for a change.

After laughing particularly hard, a silence settled over the two of us. Neither of us felt the urge to say anything, and it was OK. Stacy curled up on the bench, folding her legs beneath her, and rested her head on my shoulder.

Something was on my mind. I had been thinking of it a lot lately, and before I knew what I was doing, I spoiled the quiet moment and blurted out, "Hey, do you want to go out tonight?"

Stacy raised her head to look at me. She had a slightly puzzled look on her face. "You mean with John and Christy?" she asked.

"Um," I struggled with the words, "no... ah... I was thinking just the two of us, you know..."

"Like a date?" There it was. She said it.

"No," I said right away, "nothing like that."

She opened her mouth to say something, but I jumped right back in.

"No," I said. "Yes, it's a date. It's definitely a date."

"I would love to go," she said.

Plans followed soon after. It was a simple date, a typical date in fact. We were going to catch a movie and then a late dinner in a somewhat classy restaurant priced way beyond the budget of a regular high school student like myself.

The night went by famously. I brought her to a Spanish restaurant I had heard about. We stayed in the restaurant talking about the movie and nothing in particular until no one was left but us. When the waiters started dropping not-so-subtle hints that they wanted us to go, we got the bill, and I gallantly paid for the whole thing, all the while thinking, "Geez, that's a lot of money." I would probably have to starve for the next two months.

It was a few minutes before twelve when I brought her home. Cinderella-fashion, Stacy had to be back before midnight or turn into a pumpkin or something. We drove through the now-deserted streets with the windows rolled down, the wind in our hair. The stars were out. The moon was bright. The night was so perfect, I just knew something had to go wrong. And then fifteen minutes away from Stacy's house, my car -- a ten-year old rusty relic held together by bad mechanic jobs and bubble gum -- started spewing smoke from under the hood. The car had overheated.

We pulled over. The car was making sounds like it was dying a horrible death, so I put it out of it's misery and cut off the engine. I tried to start it again, but it refused to cooperate. Stacy had no way of getting home in time for her curfew. We were stuck in the middle of nowhere. It had also started to rain. We laughed uncontrollably for minutes on end. Nothing could spoil that night.

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A/N: Tell me what you think guys!


	13. The Princess Who Was Locked In A Tower

A/N: I finally got to figure out how i can update my fics even with my internet connection down! I'm really sorry I haven't updated in like forever, but here's my newest chapters. I hope you guys enjoy it and remember: I don't own anything!

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A stern voice answered the phone and I politely asked if I could speak to Stacy. It was Stacy's father. He didn't sound very happy that his daughter had a caller.

"Who's this?" he asked formally, and I gave my name, of course, though I had a strong impulse to just run for cover.

In the background, I heard Stacy say, "Is it for me?" Wordlessly, the phone changed hands.

"Hey you," I greeted Stacy. She said hello warmly and we slipped into an easy conversation filled with much laughter, but I couldn't get over the impression that she was whispering whenever she said anything. Then from the background, I heard the stern voice of Stacy's father proclaim, "It's late."

"Randy," Stacy said uncomfortably, "I have to go, OK?"

"No problem," I said.

"Bye."

The phone clicked and I found myself listening to the dial tone regretfully. It was only 8:45 in the evening.

After that first "real" date with Stacy, I felt something was wrong again. In actuality, everything was great. Stacy and I were closer than ever. We weren't spending as much time together as we used to (she had been going straight home lately), but when we were together, things were greater than great. We were having so much fun, I'd say things were downright fabulous. I just knew Stacy well enough to know that she was holding something back.

"Courage, Randy," I told myself. I decided it was time to ask her out again.

Walking to a class together in a faraway building, I steeled myself to ask her out on another date. It couldn't be that hard. After all, I had done it before, and she had said yes, we had a wonderful time, and sure, the car had broken down and she had arrived home late, but were both still alive.

"Um, Stacy," I began, an uneasy start. "Are you doing anything on Friday night?"

Stacy looked at me nervously.

"Randy," Stacy said, instead of answering my question, "I have to tell you something."

I hated statements like those. I tried to sound nonchalant about it. "What is it?" I asked, cool, calm, but scared deep down.

"I just think you should know something, I mean, it's only fair. You're a great guy, and I like being with you. It's not really about you."

This was not good. it sounded like she was about to blow me off.

"I just want you to know that my parents are really strict. My father is a banker. Conservative. You know. My mom is very religious. I'm the only daughter in my family, and my parents just don't understand. They're very old-fashioned. They hit the roof when I got home so late when we went out."

"So what are you telling me?" I asked even though I didn't want to know the answer.

"I'm telling you that my parents don't want me going out with you. Or anyone else for that matter. No boys on pain of death." She gave a little, sad laugh. "I'm sorry. I don't want to kick up a fuss about this. There's nothing I can do."

I was absolutely floored.

"But," Stacy went on, "it's not like they can stop me from seeing you in school. After all, you are in almost every one of my classes."

We laughed, and then i told her, "I understand."

Stacy was having a hard time looking at me. She kept her eyes on the path in front of her instead. For the nth time that day, I was stuck by how beautiful she was, and I realized that there wasn't much I wouldn't do for her.

I felt like a part of me was broken inside.

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A/N: Hope you liked this chapter, now you can go on to the next one... :-)


	14. So, What's The Deal!

Soon after my fist real date with Stacy, not many dates followed but we were always together in school. Before we knew it, we were the talk of the school. News had somehow got around that Stacy and I were going out, no doubt because the saying "It's a small world," applies to our high school many times over. Plus, I wasn't about to keep the whole thing secret. I told a couple of guys that yes, we did go out on a date and yes, I had a great time. Within days, everyone was asking me, "So what are you? Are you guys are together or what!"

Before peopleI barely knew started accosting me in corridors with "Are you and Stacy a couple? Is it official?" John and Christy were already interrogating me like characters in a bad detective movie. John, of course, was playing bad cop.

We were early to class, waiting for the teacher to arrive. Christy and John were seated on the chairs beside me. It was the perfect setting for interrogation.

John: So you guys went out again?

Randy: Yeah.

John: Three times in one week? Are you fuckin' crazy? Are you friggin' outta yo mind?

Christy (after recently parking herself in her seat and arranging her books on the table): What? You went out again? Oh my God!

John: Ya don't ask a girl out in rapid succession. That's just askin' for it, dude!

Christy: Oh Randy, you are so sweet. You are the sweetest guy on the planet. I'm so happy for you! I'm so so happy happy happy for you!

John: See how Christy's reacting? She knows you're playing straight into the hands of the Evil Sisterhood. They want you to be wrapped around Stacy's finger. And they'll take everything from you: your freedom, your manhood, your dignity, your money--

Christy (to John): Hey buster, girls don't just give themselves away like this everyday, you know. What you're saying is really unfair. I think girls face more risks in a relationship than men do. Especially with such pigheaded men like you around.

Randy (quietly); Actually, we might go out again tonight.

John and Christy (simultaneously): WHAT?

John (shaking his head all throughout): Now you've done it! You're asking her out with impunity...

Christy: And she's saying yes.

John: This definitely means something, man.

Christy: Yes, it does.

Randy (almost afraid to ask): What does it mean?

Christy (placing an arm on Randy's arm): You guys are a couple.

Randy: Excuse me?

John: You guys are an item. You're hitched. You are no longer single, buddy.

Christy: This is so great. I'm happy for you both!

Randy: Hold on. Just stop for a moment, OK? You haven't even consulted me or Stacy!

John: Oh, come on. You date regularly, right?

Randy: Yeah.

Christy: And you like her.

Randy: Yeah...

Christy: She likes you...

Randy: I think so.

Christy: Don't be stupid. Of course she does.

John: And here's the crucial part--you can't go out on a date with other people, say, Trish-who-has-the-hots-for-you, for example, without hurting the other person.

Randy: Well, um, no, I guess not.

John: There you go.

Christy (satisfied): You're a couple.

Randy (dumbfounded): Wait a minute. Don't you think this is all rather premature? I think Stacy would be upset to hear you guys talking about us like this. No one is calling us a couple until we say so.

Christy: Yeah, you're right, Randy.

John: So what are you guys then?

Randy: We're friends.

John and Christy: OH PLEASE!

Just then, the bell rang, and our teacher stepped in the class. Saved by the bell.

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A/N: Like it? Hate it? Please do review:-)


	15. Yes or No?

First it was yes, then it was no, then it was yes again. I was starting to get dizzy. That afternoon, all the plans had been laid out: I would pick up Stacy after dinner and maybe we would watch a movie, maybe just bum around and talk, just the two of us as it often was nowadays because we preferred it that way. After I had taken a bath and gotten myself all ready for the date, I got a call from Stacy.

"Bad news," she said, obviously in a foul mood. "I can't make it."

"Oh, that's too bad," I told her. "Why can't you make it?"

"My parents won't let me out of the house," Stacy said, exasperated. "They don't want me going out with you."

"But they love me!" I protested.

"Yeah, but not since we started going out."

Bad news indeed. Since Stacy was in a bad mood, we didn't talk for long. After saying good night, we put the phone down and I started getting depressed.

Fifteen minutes later, I had changed back in my wife beater and gym shorts and I got another call from Stacy, "Are you ready?" she asked me, almost whispering. I had a distinct impression that she was looking over her shoulder. "Can you pick me up now?"

"Sure," I replied, trying not to sound surprised.

Five minutes away from Stacy's house, I was jolted out of my reverie by my cell phone beeping. It was a text message from Stacy. She said, "Wait at the corner of your street. Turn off your engine."

_Hmm... curious-er and curious-er..._

In the darkness, parked on Stacy's street, I sat in my car for around two minutes not knowing what exactly to do next. Then I saw a dark figure, dressed completely in black, smart as a cat, going out of Stacy's door, out onto the street towards my car. Stacy opened the car door and sat down in the passenger seat, pulling at her ponytail holder in a tumble of blonde hair.

"Let's go," she said whispering, breathless, "but don't turn on the engine until I tell you to." And so we rolled down the moderate incline of her street and got the engine running when we reached the other corner. By then, Stacy was jumping in her seat, doing this little dance, saying as loud as she dared, "I did it! I did it!"

I could only laugh with her and tell her, "You're crazy!" to which she replied, fiery eyes twinkling in the darkness, "Yes, I am crazy!"

We decided to do without the movie, spending the entire night in an unpopular cafe with bad service. All we wanted was to be left alone anyway. We sat very close to each other, speaking in soft voices but laughing very loudly. We hovered on the borders of touching, as if unsure whether it was OK to touch though there was never any protest. The occasional hand on the shoulder lingered too long. Our fingers brushed, entwined, and at the last moment decided to let go.

Past midnight, we were interrupted by the beeping of a cell phone. This time it wasn't mine, though I wish it were. Stacy took one look at her phone, which was screaming bloody murder with "Dad" on the screen.

"I'm not answering it," she said. "But we should be getting back. They're going to kill me."

We were quiet on the way home. My mind was worrying about what would happen to us now. Stacy was sure to be grounded and closely watched. Her every move was sure to be restricted. No doubt about it, I had already been blacklisted by Stacy's parents. When I glanced at Stacy beside me, she looked calm, reassured, almost at peace.

At the door of her house, all the lights were on. They were waiting for her. I offered to go in with her, but she said it would be better if I didn't. Stacy kissed me at the cheek. "I don't regret it," she said. "Good night."

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A/N: I decided to give you guys 2 chapters this week. i hope you like.


	16. The First Fight

Sure enough, Stacy was grounded. It was more than a month already since we had last gone out. One day had become one week. One week had become a month. One month had turned into a mini eternity. We spent every moment we could together--studying together in the library because we had a lot of exams coming up, grabbing a bite together in the cafeteria, carrying on conversations with each other on pages of notebooks during class. So nothing had really changed, and yet we never dared to go out alone.

We stayed within the school grounds, within the bounds of the rules. After her last class, I would walk her to her ride home and say good-bye, no phone calls, just e-mail, text and expensive cellphone calls that we both saved up all our meager allowances for. I had borne it all bravely, I thought, even though I didn't get it. Why was Stacy allowing herself to be beaten by her parents?

That night Stacy and I were winding up another too-brief conversation, saying good nights and take cares and everything short of the three words I was dying to say and to hear, when I just had to ask it.

"Stacy, how much longer will you be grounded?"

"I don't know," she said, sounding helpless. Typical-princess-trapped-in-a tower answer.

"What is it?" I asked, having an attack of low self-esteem. "Why don't your parents like me? Do they think I'm not good enough?"

"No," she said defensively, "it's not like that. They just don't know what to do. You have to understand them. They're very black and white. I understand them. They're just doing what they think is best for me. I'm their daughter. I have to follow them."

"Do you think something's wrong with me?"

"No! Nothing's wrong with you."

"Then why don't you do something?" There. I said it. "Why do you let them run your life? How can you let them do this to you? How can you just sit there and say 'I don't know'" -- I said it mockingly -- "when they could ruin us?"

Silence on the other end of the phone. I knew I had gone too far. My mouth, with my brain as a guilty accomplice, did that to me when I got carried away.

Stacy, always the proud one, said in a cold, even tone, "Look, no one's asking you to go through this, it's not like we're together."

Not one to beat by that, I said, "Yes, no one is."

Now the silence on the phone was on both ends. The silence just stretched on and on for minutes at 60 cents per silent minute. We both said nothing - both of us angry, both of us afraid of what the other would say, both of us afraid of what we would say.

I took a deep breath, thought of how much I missed being with Stacy, and said, "I'll do it. You know I'll do it. I'm sorry. Just help me understand. It's just killing me, you know?" My voice broke involuntarily, making me sound like a pathetic pubescent boy. I hated how my voice could be so uncool during times like these. "I need you," I said. It was the most I could say over the phone.

Silence still. I thought she wouldn't talk to me anymore. Then softly, she began to speak. "I've had boyfriends before," she said, "but none of them ever bothered my parents." She laughed at something she found funny. "Somehow, they knew I wouldn't stay with those guys. I was just playing. When I got tired of them, I dumped them. And my parents were never surprised."

"They're not fools," she went on. "They know that this time around, it's not a game. This time, people can really get hurt, and they don't want their little girl hurt. For the first time in their lives, they're not the first ones I think about. And they don't know what to do about that. So I'm grounded."

"If you were just another game," she said with a heavy sigh, "I would break every one of their stupid rules. I'd be out with you tonight. But I have to respect their rules because there is so much to save."

"Do you understand now?" she asked me. "I've said too much."

We talked for thirty minutes more, after Stacy changed the subject. We talked about nothing in particular. Because we shared so much between us, nothing more had to be said.

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A/N: Please review guys!


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